When The Angels Fell
by bandchaos
Summary: "The Angels. They're falling." A few weeks after Sam almost closed the gates to hell and a now fallen Castiel is slowly adjusting into human life while he and the Winchesters try to figure out how to fix Heaven. (ONE SHOT)


There was a coffee mug sitting between Castiel's hands, producing warmth he wasn't quite used to feeling yet. His eyes shifted from the coffee in the cup to the counter up front and there stood Dean Winchester, talking to a man behind the counter. Ordering, he said. Castiel wasn't sure what he was ordering of the man exactly, but the conversation seemed amicable from this distance, so he wasn't very concerned that it was something the stranger was uncomfortable with. When Dean started to turn, Castiel's eyes shifted back to the mug in front of him, only wandering back up when Dean slid into the seat across from him again with a heavy sigh that seemed to follow everything he did anymore.

"What did you order the man to do?" Castiel questioned curiously, since Dean has left before saying he would just "figure it out".

"Cas, I didn't order _him_ to do anything. I went to order food. Told them what I wanted so they can make it and bring it to us." Castiel's mouth formed a small "o" shape and he gave a slight nod in understanding. Despite Dean's agitated tone, Castiel knew he wasn't mad at him, not anymore.

A few weeks ago that had been significantly different though. Metatron had stolen Castiel's grace and sent him back down to Earth where Cas found himself entirely, hopelessly, and helplessly human. Shock had momentarily overwhelmed him, but then he remembered exactly _why_ Metatron had stolen his grace and he brought himself to his feet and wandered out of the woods he had fallen into and looked to the sky, crestfallen. Streaks of light overwhelmed the sky and he knew all to well what was happening. A crashing sound filled his ears as one of the first angels fell into the lake nearby and Castiel's stomach churned painfully. He'd never felt such pain in his life. A brief observation of the vessel showed there was no visible damage and confirmed that the pain he felt was all merely emotional and that nothing physical was attributing to the aches and pains he felt.

And that realization made him feel worse.

"Does that work, Cas?"

Castiel snapped back to reality with Dean's words and looked up at him reluctantly. Dean heaved another sigh. He was used to Castiel zoning out now. It was a struggle for the fallen angel to grasp all of the human intricacies and often got caught up in little things and zoned out in the process. Without waiting for Cas to prove him right, Dean repeated himself. "I was saying that we could finish up here, pick up some stuff, and then return to the hideout. Either Sam and Kevin have a new idea of what to do, or they don't. But I'll be damned if I have to go research for another three weeks straight with no leads," his voice came out in a low grumble by the end of his repeated rant.

"Of course, Dean." Castiel's responses were always just that, short and concise. He was worried that he would say too much one day and they'd end up where they were the day he fell.

He'd found his way back to the Winchesters in a similarly devastated state. His eyes locked on Sam first, noting that he was alive. A rush of relief flooded through him that at least one of them had listened to Naomi. That was no surprise though, because Dean would do anything for his brother, and if there was even the slightest chance that Sam wouldn't make it through these trials, he would stop him. It wasn't Naomi's words per say that had convinced him, but it was the suggestion of such a chance. Obviously, she hadn't been lying this time around.

"Cas…"

Castiel's wet eyes lifted to look at Dean. His voice was hoarse, and Castiel was aware that the elder Winchester wanted nothing more than to heave towards him and punch him square in the jaw, but he wouldn't. Even from this distance, Castiel could hear the younger Winchester's labored breathing. He hadn't finished the trials, so he would live, but it wouldn't be easy. "Why?" The question had taken some time to come from Dean, like he was trying to censor the expletives and other harsh words to form a kinder sentence, though the simple question didn't end up being enough. After all, there was no censoring Dean Winchester.

"Dammit Cas, why did you go through with it? That bitch emtold/em us this would happen, and you just emhad/em to go up and finish it, didn't you?" Sam made quiet protests, like always. Castiel wasn't quite sure what he had done to earn Sam Winchester's faith as he had, but he always seemed to forgive him before even Dean would. Castiel couldn't hear them from this distance, but the twist in Dean's expression let him know that was what was happening, and Dean's reply confirmed it. "No, Sammy. Cas should've known better. I told him not to do it. The one time I wanted you to trust me Cas, and you just go and shit on it –"

"Dean." Castiel's voice had croaked out, harsh and ragged and hardly like his own. It wasn't Jimmy's, no, he had become the vessel now, but it spoke of so much pain and agony that the two men a distance before him had frozen and they'd been silent for a long time. Castiel was hurting now more than he had ever thought he could and he knew it wouldn't heal any time soon. Despite the fact that Dean was still evidently disappointed, upset, and frustrated with Castiel, he dropped it for the time being and tried to help Sam up.

Castiel pulled out of his own thoughts when a waiter came up to them, placing two identical plates in front of them. He said something about enjoying the food before leaving. Noises coming from Dean's side of the table indicated to Castiel that he had started eating, but Castiel hadn't looked up to check, because he was too confused about what was in front of him. In his few weeks as a human, he'd had most of Dean's favorites, since Dean had been dragging him out to meals to get out of researching, but this was different. They'd been driving back from Nevada from visiting with Kevin and helping him set up to translate the Angel tablet. He wasn't really comfortable that there were no Angels walking the Earth, only demons, so they had set up security a bit better and brought him both of the tablets. He'd been reluctant to agree since Dean had been foolish enough to tell a prophet of the Lord that he was just "out". Castiel hadn't done his best to help the situation after being so rough with him before on translating the angel tablet. Kevin had every right to be angry with him, but they managed to convince the prophet to help again, not for his sake, but for the sake of all the other lost angels.

So now they sat in a small café, a few hours away from the hideout. They could've made it back, but Dean was avoiding getting back to the hideout in order to avoid research on Heaven, because it was highly unspecific. They didn't know how to fix Heaven and they had no leads, so their search was laborious and provided little to no results even relating to it since the Men of Letters didn't even know of their existence.

"Look Cas, it's not poisoned or anything." Castiel looked up at Dean then back at the food. It was meat shoved between bread, but the bread was round, with a hole in the center, from which he could see a white spread and the meat again. "It's a bagel. It's got cream cheese and ham and turkey and stuff. Just eat it." It didn't sound like something Dean would eat, but the town was small and didn't have any fast food places, only this small café open on this Sunday morning. They must not have been serving typical lunch food yet, because this was unlike any lunch food Cas had seen before. After watching Dean eat for a moment, Castiel decided to mimic his movements and bite into the sandwich.

Eating was one of the experiences that he had felt like the other angels would enjoy. Well, the other newly fallen angels. The drinking he didn't understand, the sex he'd yet to experience (nor did he really want to after Dean brought him to a brothel what seemed like so long ago), but the food he really loved. Hunger was a need he could easily satisfy, as was sleep. He still couldn't heal the pain from falling and knowing about the pain he'd caused other angels, but the pain from hunger or the exhaustion, that he could fix.

"Don't make yourself sick…" Dean had just finished up his sandwich and was reaching for his coffee when he noticed Castiel doing what he'd been doing a lot when he tried something new that he liked. He was scarfing down the food altogether too quickly and he knew that if he didn't remind the fallen angel before him to slow it down, he'd see his food again pretty soon and then the sad expression to follow, like he'd disappointed all of them by making yet another mistake. Dean didn't quite understand why he acted like he did, but he was trying to be sympathetic with Cas.

"Right." Cas swallowed thickly and responded, putting the sandwich to pause for a moment and regain his composure before going back to eating at a slower pace.

"So … Cas." Dean paused and Castiel took the assumption that he was waiting for eye contact, so Castiel took a moment before obliging, figuring the last few weeks were enough evidence that this wouldn't be a conversation he really wanted to have. "Say we _can't_ fix this. What if there isn't a reset button?"

"There is."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just know." Dean's eyes hardened right before him and he knew why, but Dean spoke anyways, with a small shake of his head.

"I don't see how you still have such blind faith in all of this," but at that Castiel's expression deadpanned. Was it faith? He stared passed Dean blankly as he tried to shift through his feelings. He had thought that, no he had been emsure/em that it was faith keeping him going. Faith that despite the fact that his Father had left so long ago he wasn't long gone, he would return to help his children, or Castiel would fix it himself. The longer he remained human though, the less sure he was of that.

"Cas."

Castiel focused back in on this moment again and felt his hands shaking on the table. His head flicked down to the shaking hands and willed them to stop before looking back up at Dean again. "It's not your job to fix everything, you know?" Was that it? Castiel still wasn't all that sure. "I mean, you did a bang up job with screwing some things up upstairs, but Metatron _used_ you. That doesn't mean it's your responsibility to –"

"Yes it is, Dean," with a sort of fierce reverence, Castiel spoke and stared at Dean who recoiled back a little at the seriousness in his tone. Even Castiel was surprised that it came out like that, but now he was sure. "It was always my responsibility. Twice I should have been dead, Dean. But He brought me back. I owe it to Him, and I owe it to my brothers and sisters. It's my fault they're lost and wandering the Earth." Admitting this made Castiel feel a little relieved yet sicker with himself. He had foolishly taken everything into his own hands and messed everything up. His brothers and sisters had put their faith in him, and he had ruined everything and betrayed their trust, slaughtering hundreds of them out of so-called righteousness. His hands started shaking a little again. Guilt was what he was feeling. Human emotion was something he would be happy to be rid of in an instant. Nothing anyone had ever done to cause him pain physically could even pale in comparison to this kind of pain. His breaths caught in his throat painfully and came in short gasps.

"Woah, dude, calm down." Dean's voice reminded him he was here and in a position to fix things, but that didn't stop his sharp, quick gasps and shaking. What did stop them was Dean's hand on his shoulder. He looked back up from his plate to Dean, confused by the contact. This wasn't typical behavior of his hunter friend. He glanced down at the hand gripping against his plaid shirt.

"Yeah sure, you made some mistakes and pulled some dick moves, but that doesn't outweigh the good that you did and can do. Sure, let's try to fix heaven and whatever, but you can't put all of that weight on your shoulders. If it doesn't work, you can't blame yourself." We fell into a silence after that. Castiel knew he was right, but it was so hard to agree with him when it had always been easier before to blame himself.

Dean coughed lightly and broke the eye contact before roughly patting Castiel's shoulder and pulling his hand away. He grabbed the handle of his coffee mug and downed what was left. Castiel followed suit and Dean spoke up while he was drinking. "Alright, no more chick flick moments. We should probably head out."

Dean got up rather abruptly after that, but Castiel took another moment before following suit. Dean stopped up at the front counter to pay, and then they were out and heading towards the Impala. "Hold up, Cas." Castiel's hand was on the passenger door handle when Dean spoke up. He let go of the door handle and looked up rather abruptly when he heard his name again. Dean looked at him a bit reluctantly and pursed his lips, looking away from Castiel, who quirked a brow curiously. Another heavy sigh came from Dean that Castiel could hear easily from the other side of the car. Dean held up the Impala keys so they were in Castiel's line of sight. "I figure it's about time we teach you how to drive." The keys flew over the hood of the car and Castiel fumbled to catch them, staring blankly back at Dean, who raised a single finger and gave him the most stern of looks.

"But get _one_ scratch, one _single_ scratch on my baby, and you're dead. Got it?"


End file.
